Dark Remedies
by loveorsomething
Summary: Draco discovers an obsession of Hermione's and struggles to help her overcome a loss.
1. Emotions

Author's Note: Nope, I don't own Harry Potter or any of the characters therein, they are the property of J.K. Rowling. Also, this is my first stab at fanfiction, so I would appreciate reviews with CONSTRUCTIVE criticism, and not blatant insults. Also, I apologize for the constant replacement and removal of the story. I couldn't seem to get it how I wanted it.  
  
"Lacarnum Inflamare, Crabbe. La-CAR-NUM"  
  
"Lacarum Imfamarle!"  
  
A flash of light, lingering smoke as the light dimmed,   
  
Crabbe's face now lacking eyebrows and those pointy bangs that made him feel attractive.   
  
Draco drew his own wand from within his robes, muttered the incantation to conjure flame, and lit his clove.  
  
"I can't believe you've made it to seventh year on nothing but money. You amaze me."  
  
The boys, including Draco's second goonie, Goyle, had taken to haunting the courtyard between classes, making people uncomfortable and corrupting Hogwarts youth. Lucky for them, the only teacher that patrolled the halls outside the courtyards between classes was Snape, and he took pity on the boys for the recent loss of their fathers.   
  
Draco had been trying for a year to forget. It had been such a whirlwind war that it was over in one summer, Voldemort vanquished by The-Boy-Who-Lived, with heavy casualities on the Dark Lord's part, and light casualties on the side of good, including the Weasley twins, Hagrid the Game Keeper, and the Weasel himself, Ron Weasley.   
  
Draco puffed on his clove, leaning casually against a wall and watching a giggling group of his female classmates move hastily past him.  
  
"There goes Millicent, Goyle. She's been eying you lately."  
  
Goyle pulled a face and stared disgustedly in the opposite direction as Draco and Crabbe laughed heartily, billows of thick, sweet-smelling smoke wafting past them.   
  
"It's only funny when it isn't true."  
  
"For you," Crabbe retorted, guffawing.  
  
Draco didn't insult Crabbe's intelligence for the simple reason that he hadn't heard him. His attention had been snagged for the fifth time that day by the sad brown eyes and pouty petal-shaped lips of a certain Hermione Granger. She didn't even bother to jog past him, or perhaps she just didn't notice him as she ambled past the three with her eyes downcast.  
  
Draco was at a loss. He hadn't had the ability to even form a coherant sentence when he saw her, much less a suitable insult. It had been this way since the beginning of the year, and at first he hadn't minded, he'd felt that perhaps he'd simply grown to hate her more, but as he'd begun to daydream about holding her in his arms and tasting her tears, he'd become more and more angry with himself.  
  
After all, what good could an ignorant mudblood do him? It was an insult to his father's memory to even be thinking about her. But as he followed her dark ponytail with his eyes and listened to the unmistakable little sniffles that seemed to follow her everywhere these days, he couldn't help but empathize with her.  
  
"...she's the best you can do, Vinny, just give in and ... you know... like her back or something..."  
  
Quietly, as Crabbe continued to bash Goyle, Draco snuffed out his clove underfoot and began following Hermione to Advanced Potions.   
  
Harry Potter watched as Draco tailed his one remaining best friend to class, feeling anger seethe in his veins. First, his parents had been killed, then his godfather had been snatched from him by one of the Dark Lord's followers, then his dearest friend had been killed by the Dark Lord himself right before his eyes, just as a means of torture. And now, even after the war had ended, young Malfoy was trying to take from him the last important person in his life. He wouldn't have it.   
  
Determined, he strode toward the lean Slytherin's back and grabbed at his shoulder, spinning him about to stare coldly into ice-blue eyes.  
  
"What are you doing, Malfoy?"  
  
Draco shrugged Harry's hands from his shoulders, taking a step back to maintain a sense of personal space.  
  
"Going to Potions? What, are you the hall monitor now?"  
  
Harry sniffed the air and crinkled his nose, frowning.  
  
"You smell like smoke."  
  
"Do I? Forgot to spritz, you know, I apologize for offending your sensitive nose."  
  
"Don't touch Hermione."  
  
"Who?"  
  
Draco smiled inwardly. The 'who' was such a nice touch.  
  
"Hermione Granger. If you touch her I'll -crucio- you you into oblivion, and then, when you're begging to die, I'll cut all of your fingers off, then toes, then" -   
  
"I get it, Potty. I'll try my best to stay away from Hurley Ranger. Clove?"  
  
He offered his silver tin with the emerald green snake and large 'M' emblazoned on the front. As a reply, Harry took a threatening step forward, then jogged along to catch up with Hermione, to brag about the warning he'd just given, Draco assumed. He replaced his tin and continued toward Potions, watching the two sad-eyed Gryffindors descend into the dungeons.  
  
Hermione had cut her trip to the library short at Harry's request, and had met him in the Gryffindor common room for their last fifteen minutes of lunch. He'd seemed so fiery when he spoke to her before her Potions class, causing her to feel that he had a good reason to shorten her ongoing search for a way to reawaken the dead.   
  
She glanced over her shoulder from her favorite seat near the cold hearth as the portrait hole opened and Harry stepped inside, depositing his bookbag at the door.   
  
"Now, what is it that's bothering you?"  
  
"Draco Malfoy."  
  
Hermione felt her cheeks grow hot almost instantly.  
  
"You made me meet you here so that we could talk about what a git Malfoy is?"  
  
"Not exactly..."  
  
"Harry, he's the least of my worries right now! Of course he's angry with you, you helped kill his father. Just ignore him!"  
  
"He's been following you."  
  
"He has not, Harry! Stop being paranoid."  
  
"I'm not being paranoid, Hermione! I saw him tailing you to Potions, and" -   
  
"We have Advanced Potions -together-!"  
  
"Have you not seen the way that he looks at you?"  
  
She stood up and gathered her books, intent on spending at least ten minutes in the library before their next class.  
  
"It's called loathing, Harry. I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures."  
  
As she walked to the portrait hole, Harry stood and turned to face her. If she wouldn't listen to him, the great stubborn mule, then he'd at least offer her a bit of the same advice that she'd been giving him since their first year.  
  
"Hermione."  
  
She pivoted to look at him, her expression telling him to say what he wanted to say.  
  
"Just be careful."  
  
Reluctantly, she nodded, and then hurried off to the library.  
  
Care of Magical Creatures passed quickly with the Gryffindors struggling through Hagrid's absence to pay attention to Professor Grubbly-Plank's lesson on billywigs, and the Slytherins acting oddly subdued.  
  
As Harry and Hermione made their way back to the common room to get ready for dinner, Harry found himself wishing that Hermione would make some comment on her homework load, but she remained silent with her eyes on the springy grass beneath them. It was her unwavering perseverence that had kept him going all these years, but now she seemed so weak and all he wanted to do was siphon that pain off into himself and make her smile again.  
  
Once they entered the castle she branched away from him and down the right hand corridor, and Harry knew immediately that she was going to the library.  
  
"I'll save you something to eat."  
  
"All right."  
  
She'd learned to just accept his offerings of food, knowing that it would start a huge fight that ended in tearful pleas if she didn't.  
  
Draco watched as she slipped away from Harry, standing stock-still as she disappeared like a waif of light down the dark hallway. Crabbe and Goyle seemed not to notice, continuing past the staircase and toward the dungeons.   
  
That sniffling began again, and all he wanted to do was hold her, comfort her, tell her that he understood her loss. Be to her what Ron had been, a beacon of hope in this bleak existence. But then he remembered that she was a mudblood, and followed his friends down into the dungeons.  
  
Hermione pored tirelessly over the many tomes on the table in front of her, resisting the urge to scream as she found absolutely nothing useful. How to re-awaken the comatose, how to awaken a demon, how to revive a squirrel...  
  
"Don't you think that the Ministry would have discovered a spell to wake the dead if there was one?"  
  
Hermione winced as she heard the familliar drawl of a certain rebellious wizard. She glanced up at him to ensure that he did not have his wand pointed at her, and upon discovering that he was alone with his hands on the table, she flipped the page and continued her search.  
  
"Being human, it is quite possible that they missed something. I'm just double-checking."  
  
Draco sucked in a breath as he realized just how desperate she was. Surely the cleverest witch in their year had thought of the fact that millions of witches and wizards over the years would have searched for the very same thing.  
  
Without asking, he took a seat in front of her, cautiously reaching over and closing her book. She gazed, glassy-eyed, into icy orbs that brimmed with sympathetic tears.  
  
"You know that it's useless, Hermione. You'll see him again someday. You just have to wait."  
  
He feared a violent reaction to his words, but she surprised him by being unfailingly logical, rubbing her eyes to stop the oncoming tears.  
  
"It just seems so wrong not to try..."  
  
"Sometimes you have to let it alone... I know that this is cliche, but Ron of all people would not want you wasting your life on a pointless journey."  
  
He didn't know if he had the right to mention Ron, much less what he wanted, but she nodded quietly and began sobbing into her hands. How helpless she seemed, how defenseless and weak. Before he had time to comprehend what he was doing, he was on the other side of the table with his arms around her, whispering that he understood and that it would get better. And when his actions began to sink in, he was revolted, his body trembling with the indecision of letting her go or holding her tighter.   
  
He gritted his teeth and pushed her out to arm's length, his grip on her shoulders like iron.  
  
"I hate you."  
  
He uttered the words like curses, squinting against salty tears and trying not to snap.  
  
"I know. You can't help it, you've been raised to hate me."  
  
Her eyes were so sincere, her facial features so drawn and distraught. How could he hate this frail creature? What had she ever done besides defend herself and her friends?   
  
She sobbed heavily against his lean fingers, no longer even working to hide her tears. She lifted her puppy brown eyes to his and sucked in a shaky breath, causing his grip to weaken as he felt a sudden piercing guilt for what he'd said.  
  
"Draco, you're nearly eightteen... It's about time you start making your own decisions, forming your own opinions... You don't have to hate me."  
  
He began trembling again, unsure as to whether or not it was out of pain or anger. Something about this girl had alarmed him from day one. Something had made him raise his defenses against her, search for ways to imprint himself on her memory, make her -know- him. And here she was, telling him that it was okay to want her, to -love- her. He did.  
  
"I don't want to hate you... I want you to be happy again."  
  
She collapsed against him and soaked his shoulder with her tears, allowing him to hold her protectively and stroke her hair. Finally, after nearly two hours of crying and comforting, she stood suddenly and began gathering the books that she wanted to check out, pulling the considerable weight against her thin body.  
  
"If I don't go, Harry and Ginny will worry... Thank you, Draco."  
  
Slowly, almost painfully so, she leaned over to kiss him, brushing warm lips over cold lips and tracing her fingertips across his sharp cheekbone.   
  
Leaving him speechless, she quickly checked out her books and exited. 


	2. What he doesn't know

Author's Note: Don't own Harry Potter, any of the characters, any of the ideas, you know the drill - it is all property of J.K. Rowling. Review if you'd like, but only if it's constructive criticism or a compliment, please no blatant insults.  
  
The next morning went terribly slow, but Hermione didn't really mind. She'd spent several hours in bed the pervious night fretting over what Draco would think of her kiss. She regretted having let her defenses drop so far that she could only find comfort in _Malfoy._ She figured that he'd probably told every slytherin that he could find of the triumph that he'd had over Hermione Granger. She'd even come close to throwing up once or twice, but she'd forced it down and told herself that she would vehemently deny any accusations.  
  
But this morning, no one had mentioned anything about the previous night besides Seamus, who told her that she spent way too much time in the library, and that her lack of sleep was beginning to show.  
  
As she pored over the Daily Prophet and sipped at her orange juice, the thought of Potions was eating away at her. Was he planning something horrible for her? Would he unveil some mortifying plot to destroy her where only Snape could intervene?

She approached the dungeons with every footstep falling heavily against the stone floor and her heartbeat echoing in her ears, then caught sight of Malfoy himself standing in the courtyard, waves of purplish smoke slithering about his head like some great protective snake. She was forcefully reminded of Nagini, Voldemort's pet snake, and it made her turn away once he saw her.

She began to hurry toward class, but he had tossed down his clove and jogged to catch up with her.They walked in tense silence for a few minutes before Draco finally broke it, his angelic features forming a warm smile.  
  
"I hope that I could see you before class..."  
"Why?"  
"Why? I don't know, because I like to look at you up close?"  
"Who did you tell?"  
"Who...did I..."  
"Tell, Draco. Who did you tell? Who knows?"  
  
They had stopped at the bottom of the stairs, Hermione leaning purposefully away from him. His expression fell from somewhat chipper to hurt, and then merely insulted. He'd wrestled with himself all night as to whether or not it was okay for him to have kissed a mudblood, to have feelings for one. And when he'd pictured her tear-streaked face so close to his own, he'd known that it was perfectly acceptable to love whomever you wanted to love. How dare she recoil from such a perfect situation? Who did this dirty, insignificant female think she was?  
  
"You know, mudblood, I can't even think of a suitable insult for you right now. But you'd better believe that I'd never tell a damned -soul- if I'd touched you... So don't you worry your pretty little head about it."  
  
And as guilt had begun to overwhelm her she stepped forward to apologize, reaching for his arms. But he flung her hands away disgustedly, glaring at her with the unmistakable air of contempt before turning away and heading into the Potions classroom.Hermoine only tried once or twice to get his attention by staring at him for extended periods of time throughout Potions, but eventually she realized that he wouldn't look at her. As he talked animatedly with that pug-faced Pansy Parkinson on the way to their next class, Hermione felt a surprising surge of jealousy. Never would she have assumed that he was only doing it to hurt her, because of course she was insignificant enough to be immediately forgotton. After all, what had she done for him besides soak his shirt and barely kiss him? And of course Pansy would be willing to do so much more for her blond god.  
  
Determinedly, she pushed past the two of them and headed to History of Magic. Not once, all day, had she thought about Ron.  
  
Her next three classes were nothing but a blur to her by lunch, and all that she could think about was how dreadfully hungry she was. Harry and Ginny wached her with open mouths as she practically inhaled her steak-and-kidney pie. Seamus had lifted his govlet to her in cheer, and Dean had continued to pass her the same bowl of potatoes throughout lunch, valiantly hiding his grin.  
  
"Hermione... Are you feeling better?" Harry seemed apprehensive about addressing her, feeling as though her were trying to ask a lioness something as she ripped pieces of meat from an antelope carcass.  
  
"Bewwa?"  
  
Ginny cleared her throat and glanced at Harry warily, setting down her fork.  
  
"Yes, 'Mione... You haven't eaten like this in ages."  
"Oh."  
  
She swallowed ungracefully, lifting her napkin to wipe away the flecks of food on her chin.  
  
"Yes, well... I suppose that hunger catches up with you when you've been running for so long..."  
  
As the two nodded suspiciously at her and continued eating, a familliar wave of hopeless depression washed over her. In a daze, she pushed her plate away and stood from the table, ignoring the disappointed gazes of her fellows as she drifted toward the large double-doors, intent on the library.  
  
Draco watched her spindly frame disappear from the Great Hall and felt drawn to her. Goyle had begun muttering about Millicent's new hairdo and how it made her look a bit less manly, but all that Draco could think of was how to restrain himself from following her. He knew exactly where she'd gone, and he couldn't bear the thought of her free-flowing tears splling across the pages of ancient books in search of a cure for her ongoing pain. When would she realized that it was useless? That Ron was gone, dead, blinked out forever, and no amount of searching or studying could reverse that fact.  
  
He felt a flow of anger that made him forget what he'd taken earlier to be her embarrassment, replacing it instead with the will to make her -see-.  
  
"I'll see you in Defense Against the Dark Arts," he announced, and then he stood and hurried toward the door.  
  
He found her staring at the cover of a large, green, leather-bound book, and was shocked to see that it was alone on her table. He watched her for several moments and observed that she looked much healthier now that she'd eaten something, even though her eyes still set above grayish circles.  
  
Suddenly, he realized what book she was staring at, and the reason why she hadn't opened it yet. It was a spellbook that he had often seen his father consulting, full of answers to Dark predicaments. She couldn't have gotten it from this library.  
  
Solutions for the Dark Wizard. His mind was racing - she couldn't resort to Dark Magic, it was much too volatile for an unexperienced and unprepared witch. She couldn't be so desperate that she...  
  
He shot forward as she began lifting the cover, making himself known in the most abrupt way possible. He snatched the book from her hands and drew away, fingering it delicately.  
  
"What the hell are you doing?"  
  
She glared at him for a moment, trying to figure out how long he'd been standing there, then her eyes slid down to the book at his chest, and her gaze hardened.  
  
"Whatever I have to do. Now, I paid a lot for that, please give it back to me."  
  
She reached for it, but he backed away and shook his head, his gaze dropping to the inlaid black lettering across the cover. It struck an uncomfortable chord in his memory, this book, and he cautiously opened it, staring at the top left corner ingraved in silver with the name "Lucius Malfoy."  
  
His heart turned to ice, and he glanced up into chocolate brown eyes with sharp malice traced all across his features.  
  
"Where did you get this?"  
"Guess."  
"I know where it came from, Hermione. I want to know where -you- got it."  
"I went down to Knockturn Alley and got it myself over the weekend. Why, think I'm too weak to buy something, unattended, from a Knockturn Shop?"  
"We didn't sell this."  
"Funny. I could have sworn I bought it."  
"Not legally, Granger! We kept all his things!"  
  
Her own expression turned from cool to cold at being addressed as "Granger." She was so tired of being nothing to the Slytherins but an object, numbly dubbed and referred to by only her last name. Working to compose herself, she exhaled heavily and levelled her eyes with his.  
  
"Please give it to me, Malfoy... After all, your father is much too dead to put it to use."  
  
He was appalled by her lack of consideration for how dangerous this was.  
  
"You could kill yourself."  
"Well," she began, seemingly resolved to her opinion, "Maybe it would be better that way."  
  
His eyes widened, his lips formed a perfect line across his mouth, and he slammed the book onto the table between them, snagging her wrist in his iron grip before she had time to move away.  
  
"You will NOT kill yourself trying to revive that red-haired... boy. If I have to watch you day and night to keep you from making some idiot decision, then I'll do it! And don't you EVER touch this book again, do you understand me?"  
  
She tried to jerk away from him in vain, unsettled by how calm his voice was. She was almost sure that she could feel the bones in her wrist grating against one another.  
  
His expression was so frightening and full of threat that she could only whimper in reply to his question. Just as she thought that he might loosen up a bit, he defied her expectations and squeezed harder.  
  
"I asked you a question, Granger!"  
  
She tried her hardest to nod, her thoughts and vision blurring with tears and pain. And then the unmistakable sound of a fist on flesh was followed by the realease of her arm. She had a shrewd idea of what was happening, but her attention was momentarily occupied by the steadily residing pain below her hand.  
  
Slowly, she lifted her gaze to her best friend's fist falling continuously on Draco Malfoy's face, Harry's own a surprising twist of fury and glee.  
  
"You... will not... EVER... touch her... again!"  
  
Hermione knew that Harry had watched Draco follow her out of the Great Hall, knowing that there was something going on... Inwardly, she thanked Harry for being so observant, but then she realized the trouble that he would be in once the librarian discovered them...  
  
"Harry, no! Please, you must stop!  
  
But it was too late. The librarian had come bustling into the back of the library, and Harry was immediately flung from Draco with a resounding 'Expelliarmus'. Harry went for him again, hands outstretched, but paused when the librarian pointed her wand threateningly in his direction.  
  
Draco assessed the damage done to his face with deft hands as both boys were led from the library, Harry recieving quite the tongue-lashing.  
  
As Hermione watched them both being escorted from her favorite area, her attention settled on the Dark Arts book setting so innocently on the table in front of her. Minutes passed as she debated her choices, knowing that Draco would eventually see her again and likely be incredibly angry if he knew that she had the book.  
  
What the hell, she thought as she slid the book into her bag and headed to the Gryffindor Common Room. What he doesn't know won't hurt him. 


	3. Let's burn it

Several days passed where Harry rarely saw Hermione, though he didn't find it to be too peculiar as he had been tied up with detention and the occasional allowed Quidditch practice (McGonagall had believed him as far as having only done what he did to protect Hermione, and therefore had allowed the Quidditch captain some leniancy). He had all but given up on trying to steer his dearest friend away from her constant search, and was subsequently blissfully unaware of what type of magic she was dabbling in.  
  
When he did see her, however, he noticed that she was much jumpier than usual. Her eyes darted every which way as she scribbled furiously in her notes over breakfast every morning, and she would only stay as long as Draco was nowhere to be seen. Harry assumed that she was terrified of another physical confrontation, and so he would stare heatedly at Draco's bruised face at every possible opportunity.   
  
Little did he know, young Malfoy was only trying to protect her. Harry had become so cold and violent since his defeat of the Dark Lord that positive thoughts of anything Death Eater related were completely foreign to him.

Draco had been checking the library constantly since he'd realized that Hermione was in possession of the Dark Arts book, but she was intelligent enough to find hew haunts to inhabit.   
  
He had checked all of the courtyards, the boat dock near the lake, even the many reserved study areas, but he hadn't found her yet. He'd tried following her from the Great Hall in the morning, but he'd abandoned the idea when he noticed Harry mirroring him threateningly as he stood from the Slytherin table.   
  
He sat, now, trying to concentrate on the small oak box that he was supposed to be transfiguring into a bowl for homework, but his head was pounding so hard that he'd only succeeded in smoothing one corner.   
  
Where was she? What had she found? Had she hurt herself? Likely. Even his father had been made near fatal mistakes when dealing with Dark Magic, and he'd been practicing since his first year at Hogwarts.  
  
The bustle in the Slytherin Common Room was slowly driving him insane, and listening to Goyle trip over his words as he tried to romance Millicent didn't even make him laugh.  
  
He had to find her. Stashing his wand deep within his robes, he hurried to find the one person that could and possibly would tell him where she was.

Hermione flipped, mesmorized, through Solutions for the Dark Wizard while snuggled comfortably within a large red-and-gold print quilt, bearing the stinging breeze that announced the coming of fall.   
  
She'd taken to hiding up in the highest towers of the school, sure that no one ever took the time to travel up all those stairs only to gaze out over the lake and mountains that they already saw everyday.  
  
She had chosen this particular tower because of the clear view of the Quidditch field, and this Saturday had been reserved for Gryffindor practice. She needed a pick-me-up, and knowing that Harry was happy always seemed to do the trick - for a while, anyway.  
  
She was quickly becoming obsessed with the things that you could do with Dark Magic, like altering people's minds or even your appearance, covering your tracks with simple spells, even drawing forth buried memories from the recesses of others' minds.  
  
There seemed to be so many new doors to open, so much magic that she didn't think should be considered illegal - but Draco was right; nothing to revive the dead.  
  
She knew that there must be something, and if she didn't find it in this book, she would continue looking through every book of Dark Magic that she could get her hands on.  
  
She needed Ron. She wouldn't be happy until she had him again, until she could kiss him again and gaze into those naive blue eyes, ruffle that great expance of red hair and chuckle when he blushed so hard that his ears pinkened.   
  
Then a familliar blond Slytherin surfaced in her mind, smiling then frowning, smoking a clove and laughing, then gazing off into space in deep thought. That husky, sugary scent permeated her senses, taking her to a place that intermingled pleaseure with pain, hatred with passion, fantasy with reality, right with wrong...  
  
"Hermione," a voice called to her from a place that she didn't want to be, desperately coaxing her to join hit. She could feel slender fingers shaking her body, but she was detached from it, floating about and watching the happenings through the fog of unreality. She could see the blond Slytherin hovering above her body, sobbing and convulsing with tears, breathing his life into her, and she wanted so badly to tell him to stop, that she felt better here, away from the pain...  
  
A shock of red hair drew her attention as the owner crouched at the Slytherin's side, touching her and begging her. He was alive! She had to go back, to see him, to hold him!  
  
As she rushed back to her spirit's home, she was thanking Draco for whatever he'd done to bring Ron back to her. Jolting back into her body, she ignored the pain that followed the re-attachment to reality, shooting upright and wrapping her cold arms around the red-head's neck, blubbering and babbling into the long mane and smooth white neck.   
  
"Hermione, it's okay, calm down!"  
  
...A female's voice? No. Sick, hot pain settled into her stomach and she shoved Ginny away, screaming obscenities and thrashing madly.  
  
Draco had never been so hurt in his life. A few more minutes and her body would have been too cold to reinhabit, and it if weren't for him she wouldn't have been found until it was too late. The Drifting Spirit spell. You could only be out of your body for four minutes at the most, but the books in which the instructions were writ often omitted such 'trivial' information.  
  
He held her arms and pinned her legs, pressing her body into his own to calm her. As she gave in and simply cried with him, he hated her because she would not have come back if she hadn't thought Ron was there.

Parvati watched as Hermione tore her book-riddled portion of their dorm apart, her eyes and hair wild.   
  
"If he took it, I'll kill him, that heartless beast! I swear I will!"  
  
Parvati hesitated, twirling a braid about her finger nervously.  
  
"Hermione... Boys can't come into the Girls' Dorms..."  
  
Suddenly, Hermione stopped ravaging through her trunk, papers floating serenely to the ground around her.   
  
"You're right. You're right, he must have gotten it... when..."  
  
She grabbed her shoulderbag and rushed out of the dormitory, mumbling a quick goodbye to her friend as she went to find the boy that stole her dreams.

"Look at this insanity... What was she thinking?"  
  
Draco thumbed through the book he'd confiscated from Hermione, knowing that his absense from Quidditch practive could very well get him kicked off the team.   
  
He'd really lost interest in everything but Hermione, though he couldn't admit that to himself. He was constantly reminding himself that he only took such dedicated interest in her because he had a personal obligation to help her as his father had been closely involved in her best friend's death.   
  
He tried to ignore the fact that it made him livid to think of Ron and Hermione's relationship. Everytime he saw that blank, emotionless look on her face when their eyes met he was reminded that he'd wasted six years on insults and ego while he could have been noticining how incredible this girl was.   
  
Now she was forever doomed to love a dead man, and Draco was beginning to feel like the headway that he'd felt had been made through the kiss that they shared meant nothing.  
  
Another page was scanned before he slammed the book closed and massaged his swollen cheeks, gazing around himself at the timeless library setting that reminded him every inch of Hermione.   
  
His chin sagged against his hand as he reflected, tracing the inlaid script across the cover of the book, almost -feeling- the evil sinking into his flesh.  
  
She'd come to Hogwars as that bushy-haired know-it-all and had grown into the smooth-skinned young woman that all Hogwarts students - aside from the Slytherins - revered and went to for advice. She was warm and understanding and wonderful. Even a few Slytherin boys - very few - had whispered to one another in the shadows about the beautiful brunette that had definitely been sorted into the wrong house.   
  
They would never say such a thing to the son of the most anti-muggle man in the wizarding world to that date, but secrets were the most popular subject in the school, so Draco had eventually heard and begun considering that maybe, just maybe, they were right.

"How dare you..."  
  
He was unpleasantly snapped from his reverie, meeting the furious brown eyes and tight-lipped frown of Hermione Granger herself, bookbag dangling limply from her shoulder. She stood stock-still in his silence, waiting for him to say something.  
  
Eventually he did.  
  
"We can't keep doing this, Hermione."  
  
"Hermione? Who in the hell is Hermione?"  
  
Slowly, the black eyes and hair of a certain Pansy Parkinson faded into view, and she was obviously furious.  
  
She threw her bookbag - one that strikingly resembled Hermione's own - onto the table in front of him with a loud 'thud'.  
  
Draco blinked a few times and rubbed his black and blue eyes, hoping that she hadn't come to scold him for allowing Potter, the Golden Gryffindor, to inflict such damage on him. He'd receieved enough bullshit from everyone else for his failure to dodge punches for the scond time in his school career. But no, she'd come for an entirely different reason.  
  
"Why haven't you been showing up for Quiddith practice? The team captain has a responsibility to coach his team, and he certainly can't do that if he's reading in the library."  
  
Covertly, he covered the book with his crossed arms, shrugging in response to her questoin and trying to erase Hermione's face from his mind.  
  
"I just haven't been up to it..."  
  
"Haven't been UP to it? Your father paid a considerable amount of money to get you on that team. I doubt he'd have anything good to say about you abandoning it once you've become captain."  
  
"It's really none of your business, Pansy."  
  
"It is my business! I'm as much a Slytherin as you are, and I certainly don't want the Gryffindors winning that cup again."  
  
"Then you coach the team!"  
  
He stuffed the book into his bag and made to leave, ignoring the open-mouthed glare of his house-mate. He hadn't asked her to come to his practices.

He recieved several snide remarks and cold glares from his classmates as he hurried toward the dungeons, in desperate need of a drink.  
  
"Gin," he though, "and tonic, if we have it..."  
  
His mind was on the thoughtless state that he would be in after a few drinks, his mouth already watering, when a hand gripped his shoulder. He cursed under his breath, expecting another beating as he turned around. Instead, he was met with the weak, weary gaze of Granger.  
  
"Let's burn it."  
  
He sucked in a breath and pulled his bag more securely over his shoulder, totally confused.  
  
"The book?"  
  
"Yes. Hagrid has a firepit on the south side of the castle. We can do it after hours, tonight."  
  
"But... Why..."  
  
"I'm tired of feeling like this. I need finality, closure. So I want to watch it burn."  
  
She felt as if that simply had not been enough to convince him to destroy his father's old possession, and so she added a firm "Please."  
  
He switched his weight to the other foot, staring at the floor... And then he gave the tiniest nod.

Anything for her.


	4. Make me smile

Author's note: I apologize for having posted only a snipit of this chapter earlier. I rushed through it without paying attention to what I was doing. I hope you like the FULL chapter. Oh yeah, and I don't own Harry Potter, and of the characters, blah blah blah, all property of J.K. Rowling, you know the shpiel. Read and review, POLITELY, PLEASE!

At dinner Draco noticed that the ceiling was overcast, foreshadowing a storm that could ruin their plans. For a split-second he encouraged it, knowing that it could buy him time to stash the book away and keep one of his father's possessions from harm. But it had the potential to make her happy, and that made the burning well worth it.   
  
He watched Hermione pick at her food and half-heartedly smile at the jokes that often circulated around the Gryffindor table. It had been almost two years since he'd seen her smile, or heard her pitch some genius idea to any of her friends. She seemed perpetually saddened, and he wondered how on earth burning some book could remedy that.   
  
"Are you coming to practice on Friday," a cold angry voice asked him, and he met the eyes of Pansy Parkinson with a feigned grin and a nod.  
  
"Yes, of course. I just wasn't feeling too well this week is all."  
  
She mirrored his nod curtly and continued eating as his attention slithered back to the brunette Gryffindor across the hall.   
  
They'd agreed to meet at 11:00 in front of the castle, leaving their courses of action to themselves. For some reason, Draco kept picturing the insincere look on Hermione's face when she'd suggested it, and how plainly insistent she'd been.  
  
He watched as she rose from her seat and began to leave, followed by Harry. That struck him as odd.  
  
She'd not kept company with Harry for weeks, and now they clasped arms and left the Hall together, both their heads bowed.  
  
Perhaps she just missed the pathetic goody-good - after all, they had been practically attached at the hip since they'd met.  
  
Maybe, he thought to himself, he could have her when this Ron madness stopped.  
  
Deciding that he should give his Transfiguration homework another go, he took a last bite, swallowed a last drink, and headed out of the Hall.  
  
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At 10:15 Draco sat in his bed with Solutions for the Dark Wizard open on his lap. It was eerie the way that the pages gave off a soft green glow, and he'd pulled his black velvet hangings around the bed to conceal what he did.  
  
Something was wrong with the circumstances surrounding the near future plans that he had with Hermione. Even the book felt different, heavier and colder.   
  
He was apprehensive, but he would not back down. This was his only chance to reawaken that bubbly fifth year girl that he'd once thought he hated.  
  
And as he had been barely absorbing the information splayed before him, he saw it.   
  
'How to Draw the Spirit of the Dead'. His stomach lurched. She must not have seen this. It was truly a miracle that the most thorough, book-obsessed witch he had ever met could miss something so important to her.  
  
They were burning it tonight. There was no longer any doubt in his mind. It was going to go up in flames, and he was going to watch it with a smile.  
  
Wrapping the book up in his soft green blanket, he clutched it to his chest and snuck quietly out of his dorm.  
  
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He found it surprisingly easy to get down to the ground level, thankful that he hadn't encoutered Filch, or, worse somehow, Peeves.  
  
He snuck through the large double-doors and there she was, huddled with her back to a rock, her legs beneath what was clearly an invisibility cloak. He'd always assumed that one of them owned one.   
  
She gazed at him in a surprisingly calm way, her tired eyes locking on to that green bundle in his arms.  
  
"Is that it?"  
  
He nodded, stepping toward her.   
  
"Let me see it."  
  
He knelt beside her, pulling a corner of the sheet away to reveal the shiny black letters.  
  
She glanced at it and sighed, covering Draco's hand with her own to drag the sheet back to its original placement.  
  
He felt a warm surge rush throughout his body at being touched so personally by her, and he smiled inwardly at what they were about to do.  
  
"There's something I've always wanted to try, but being as my parents are dentist, well..."  
  
He watched her quietly, knowing what she wanted and reaching for his tin.  
  
She smiled as he offered her a clove, thankful that she hadn't had to actually ask.   
  
He lit his wand and then her clove, chuckling as she coughed her lungs out, then took another drag. Then he lit his own, and they smoked in silence for several moments.   
  
She gazed at the clove in her hand and then spoke, her voice soft.  
  
"I appreciate what you're doing for me, Draco.. Very few people would sacrifice something so important to them for my happiness."  
  
He didn't know what to say. A cloud of smoke flowed from between his lips as he searched for a reply, but she had already stood and started heading toward the back of the castle.  
  
He followed her.  
  
She stopped before a large pit as big around as Hagrid's hut, filled with ashes and broken remnants of unburned debris.   
  
The invisibility cloak was wrapped around her shoulders, making only her head visible, hair curled into a loose bun at the base of her neck. She was so beautiful, and she was almost his. Just another hour or so...  
  
She took the book from his arms and unwrapped it, depositing the sheet on the ground and opening the cover. She flipped through the pages in a way that suggested she were looking for something, and dropped the invisibility cloak she'd borrowed from Harry earlier, climbing into the pit and crushing through the ashes to drop the book in the middle.  
  
Draco watched as she drew her wand and muttered the incantatioin for flame, lighting the particular page she'd found and backing away as the entire book combusted almost immediately.  
  
The repercussion of the explosion knocked her over, and she fellt into a swirl of ashes as the burning pages began to scream. The flames were an emerald green, shining and spinning, illuminating the night.   
  
A figure began to materialize from the screeching fire, tall and lanky, yet somehow ethereal.  
  
Hermione reached for it and Draco climbed toward her through the pit, shouting for her to stop. But she kept moving, crawling toward the greenish flames that began looking more and more like Ron.  
  
Draco grabbed for her ankle, dragging her away from the open arms of a smiling Ron, yelling at her through the painful noise.   
  
"Hermione, what the hell is this?"  
  
She reached for his face, cupping his cheek in her ashy fingers.  
  
"This is my destiny, Draco! This is the only way that I can be happy! Maybe if the circumstances had been different we could have had something, but my heart is elsewhere! Please understand!"  
  
And then she kissed him - a soft, open-mouthed kiss that made his heart flutter and fall as she pulled away.  
  
"Goodbye, Draco!"  
  
And he let her crawl into the flames and embrace the dead man that she could never be happy without, her hair and clothing disintegrating to ash.  
  
Somehow the pain didn't seem to exist for her as the flaming man held her protectively, her skin sloughing off rapidly, replaced with the same ghostly green flesh as Ron's.  
  
Draco felt the tears begin to flow freely as her entire body was reduced to embers, and then the two ghostly figures turned to him and smiled before vanishing in a flurry of sparks.  
  
And then he was left alone in his misery, wondering what she had found and how she had done this.  
  
Well she had done it. She had gotten what she wanted, at any cost...  
  
And now he could never have what he wanted.  
  
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The next day Draco awoke in the hostpital wing, his lips and hands badly burned, and his heart aching too much for him to notice any physical pain. He forced himself to open his eyes, the pale face and muss of dark hair that belonged to one Harry Potter greeting him with tear-streaked cheeks.   
  
"Come to curse me?"  
  
Draco rose cautiously into a sitting position as Harry glanced up at him, swallowing so hard that his adam's apple bobbed. Draco thought that it seemed like a physical show of swallowing his pride.  
  
"No, actually... I came to tell you a few things, and... Ask a few..."  
  
Draco licked the sweet salve that had been applied to his lips, waving his hand as if telling Harry to go on.  
  
He did so slowly, massaging the ankle he'd lifted to his knee.  
  
"Well... First of all, she loves you... I don't know why, but she does."  
  
Draco scoffed but Harry continued as if he had not.  
  
"She told me yesterday at lunch. She said that sometimes you have to do things that hurt those dearest to you, which I didn't understand at the time, and she said that your father and the rest of the society that you were born into would disown you if you were ever involved with a... A muggleborn. She didn't want that. And then she asked to borrow my invisibility cloak."  
  
Draco sneered and shook his head. What a pathetic attempt at cheering him up. He sighed and examined his bandaged hands, quietly urging Harry on.  
  
"And... I wanted to ask you if she looked happy... When she died."  
  
Harry seemed a bit nervous and uncomfortable at speaking of something so personal with a boy he'd attacked only a couple of weeks ago.  
  
Draco noticed this and made a conscious decision to be gentle and soothing. Despite the fact that Hermione had betrayed him so completely, he still felt the same, and being unduly cruel to her best friend would not have made her happy.   
  
"Yes. Very content. She'd been planning it for a while, I think. She found a spell to bring Ron back as a spirit, and decided that she'd send for him, and leave with him. And Dumbledore has your cloak, I believe."  
  
Harry laughed softly and wiped away a falling tear, tucking away the information about his cloak into the recesses of his mind to think about later.  
  
"She always did do what she wanted."  
  
Draco lifted and dropped his brows, feeling his heart begin to harden. There was no reason to be warm anymore.  
  
His attention was snagged as Madame Pomfrey entered the room, wand and bowl of sweet-smelling salve in hand.  
  
"Visiting time is over, Potter," she said dismissively, and Harry nodded and began to leave. Draco resolved not to say goodbye when Harry turned around and offered his closed fist.  
  
"By the way... She asked me to give this to you."  
  
He dropped a silver locket into Draco's hand and then met his eyes for a few moments before leaving, as if emphasizing its importance.  
  
He examined it in awe as Harry retreated. How had she afforded this? It was silver, yes, but only on one side, which had a large 'M' engraved in green, while the other was gold, engraved with a red 'G'.   
  
He struggled to open it with bulky bandages, choking on tears as he saw the expected pictures of himself (smiling, for once), and her (looking incredibly sad).  
  
Where had she dug up a picture of him smiling? He didn't rightly care.  
  
Immediately, he put it on. She truly was amazing, that heartless mudblood.   
  
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He lay in bed, whispering her name, stroking her gift and praying for a sign. Love was not what he had hoped, but instead very painful and pointless.  
  
He thought for hours as to what would become of him. Would he go on to honor the name 'Malfoy'? Would he fall in love again, perhaps in a more conventional way? Marry, procreate, promote the survival of his bloodnline throughout the generations?  
  
Yes, she whispered back as he fell to sleep, coming as a breeze to cover him with that emerald-colored sheet that he had not yet washed and press a cool kiss to his cheek.  
  
Make me smile when I see you again...


End file.
